


Harry + Ginny Glimpses

by morphin3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphin3/pseuds/morphin3
Summary: Collection of one-shots featuring my favorites. Contains much fluff and many flirts.I'll attempt to post them in chronological order of the story, but no promises.





	1. Bag

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Bag

Ginny is having one hell of a morning. Her alarm didn’t go off, so she was late to breakfast, but she was so hungry that she still attempted to fix her normal amount of toast, which made her late to History of Magic. Also, while scooting into her seat, she dropped the last two pieces of toast and they landed on her skirt, jam-side down, before sliding slowly down her stocking and coming to rest next to her book bag. Hell of a morning? Make that a morning from hell.

“Ugh,” Ginny groans under her breath, peeking under her desk to survey her jam-smeared skirt and left shin. She can feel the stickiness of the jam oozing through her tights, and Ginny thumps her head onto her desk. Her stomach growls loudly, and Ginny shuts her eyes in frustration. Late alarm, less-than-filling breakfast, late to class, sticky tights, plus a headache now raging behind her eyes, all in the first hour of the day. Merlin.

“Ginny?” Luna’s soft, dreamy voice interrupts her wallowing.

Ginny opens her eyes and turns, but doesn’t lift her head off the desk. “Hi, Luna,” Ginny whispers dully.

Luna doesn’t seem to notice her less-than-enthusiastic greeting, and points at the trail of jam on Ginny’s wardrobe. “Want me to Tergeo it for you, or are you trying to attract a dabberblimp?”

“A what, Luna?” Ginny’s head is too heavy for her to follow her friend’s question.

“A dabberblimp. They live in the water, but sometimes they can be tempted to come ashore with something sweet. Do you want one to find you, or shall I clean your clothes off for you?”

“You can clean them. Thanks, Luna.” Ginny smiles at her friend and, with great effort, hoists her head off the desk. Luna points her wand at Ginny’s legs and Ginny feels the stickiness leave her skirt and tights. At least one part of the morning can be corrected.

Ginny manages to stay awake through Professor Binns’ monotonous lecture, but her stomach rumbles the whole time. As soon as the bell rings, she grabs her things and bolts, waving a hasty farewell to Luna over her shoulder. Just last week, her mum had sent a care package , and Ginny was thankful that she had forced herself to save a couple treacle tarts.

Ginny glances at her watch as she climbs the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. Five minutes until her next class, which is barely enough time to make it to her room and back to class. Ginny speeds up, heart and head pounding with every step. She reaches the Fat Lady and barely lets the portrait greet her before blurting the password and pushing through to the Common Room. “No manners,” she hears the Fat Lady exclaim behind her.

“No time for manners,” Ginny mutters to herself as she rushes up the staircase to her room. The dorm is empty; all the other Fifth Year Gryffindor girls are probably already outside for their Care of Magical Creatures class. Ginny hurls herself at her trunk and flings it open, shoving aside the pajamas she had hastily discarded earlier. Aha! Brown paper is sticking out under a pair of stockings. Ginny grabs the package, careful not to crush its contents. She lets the lid of her trunk slam shut as she turns to leave the room.

Ginny makes it out of Gryffindor Tower and is halfway to the Entrance Hall when she opens her care package. She stops in her tracks. Inside the brown paper is not a delicious treacle tart made lovingly by her mother’s hands, but instead a coiled rubber snake...and a note? Suspiciously, Ginny reaches into the paper wrapping and pulls out a scrap of parchment, on which is written: _Have some fun with this, Gin. We just developed it! - Gred and Forge_

Ginny groans. Of all the times for Fred and George to sneak a trick pastry into her mail…. She appreciates the gesture, really, and wishes she had discovered it sooner, as her stomach is still grumbling, more insistently now, but she is going to be late for her second class today if she doesn’t hurry.

Shoving the note and the toy snake into her bag, Ginny starts running. Out the door, down the stairs, and across the grass, she dashes all the way to the spot where her Care of Magical Creatures class is gathering. Ginny ducks her head -which is aching even more after her sprint- to avoid catching Hagrid’s eye as she joins her classmates. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice her tardiness or if he does, he doesn’t comment.

Ginny finds herself looking longingly towards the castle as the class goes on. Normally Hagrid’s classes are engaging and Ginny enjoys them, but today… her stomach has stopped rumbling and has settled into an unpleasant knot; her head is pounding more insistently, and halfway through class, Ginny realizes that her textbook is not in her bag. She curses under her breath. “Could this day get any worse?” she mutters.

Finally, after what feels like the longest Care of Magical Creatures class in her life, Hagrid dismisses them. Ginny hikes her bag over her shoulder and falls into step with the rest of her class trekking across the grounds. At the Entrance Hall, most of her classmates head towards the Great Hall for lunch, but Ginny forces herself to head back to Gryffindor Tower. Despite Luna’s earlier Tergeo, Ginny can feel her stockings sticking to her shins, and she wants to make sure she has the right books in her bag for her afternoon classes. With a great sigh, Ginny begins to climb the stairs.

Halfway up the stairs, two eager First Years rush past her, bumping her into the railing. A terrible ripping sound catches Ginny’s attention a moment before her textbooks tumble onto her feet. One lands directly on the arch of her left foot; one hits her shin and then bounces down a few stairs; and one, the heaviest, A History of Magic, thumps solidly onto her right foot and stays there as if taunting her.

Ginny’s jaw drops, but no sound comes out of her mouth. Then she notices the toy snake sliding down the stairs as well, and a few of her quills are rolling away from her, and her essay for McGonagall, the one she spent hours working on, is getting trampled on by other students on the stairs. Ginny can take no more: tears spring to her eyes, and against her will, a great hiccuping sob escapes her.

She stands there helplessly, a few tears tracing down her cheeks as she watches her things roll down the stairs and get stepped on by careless, hungry students. Her head aches very badly, and it’s all she can do not to have a complete melt-down and collapse right there on the stairs. As if to join the misery party, her stomach gives a pathetic grumble.

“Ginny?” A voice behind her forces her back to the present. Harry is standing two stairs above her, looking concerned and slightly flushed. “Do you, er, need some help?” He motions to her feet, and Ginny nods miserably.

Harry crouches and begins picking up her books. “Ouch. Did they land right on you?” He looks up at her and Ginny nods again. He looks away quickly, and Ginny blushes. She’s heard Harry tell Ron and Hermione about how uncomfortable he was when Cho cried, and Ginny takes a deep breath.

She wipes her face on her sleeve and hunches next to Harry, reaching for her Transfiguration essay. With a few mild cleaning charms and some Spell-o-tape, she may be able to salvage it. Ginny folds the parchment carefully and moves to put it in her bag, then pauses, realizing that her essay was on the floor only because her bag split. “Bugger,” she whispers emphatically, staring at the frayed edges of what was the seam. “Bugger it all to hell,” she says louder, and Harry turns towards her.

“Oh, no, is that what started all this?” He’s looking at her bag, and then his eyes meet hers, and she swears he blushes. Interesting. She decides that maybe, just maybe, her day may improve. She smiles at Harry, and now she is sure of his blush.

Ginny moves to pick up the toy snake that is two steps below them and answers Harry, “Actually, this whole morning has been a bloody nightmare. But yes, the bag is what started-” she waves her arm around at the mess radiating from them “-this specific situation.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Harry says quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?” He stacks her textbooks on the stair next to his knee and reaches for her bag. “Reparo,” he mutters with a wave of his wand.

She takes the bag from him with a soft “thanks,” making sure their hands touch, and picks up her books and loads them into the bag. She considers Harry’s question; she could tell him about her hellish day, could vent and rage, and then what? Say goodbye, thanks for listening, and go back to class? Would she feel better afterwards? Possibly. Or…

“Would you go flying with me, Harry?” she asks suddenly, surprising herself. Harry appears just as shocked, and she clarifies, “I mean, not right now. I want to eat an actual meal first, but after classes? This day has truly been awful, and I think,” she sighs, trying to push all the incidents of the morning out of her mind, “I think that a fly would do me good.”

Her eyes close as she pictures herself on her broom, soaring around the grounds. Just thinking about flying makes her feel better, and Ginny smiles to herself, forgetting for a moment that she was late to two classes earlier, that her stomach is growling insistently, that her bag split, that Harry is kneeling on the stairs next to her.

“I’ll go flying with you,” Harry blurts, yanking Ginny out of her reverie. Her jaw drops a little, and Harry stammers, “After dinner, er, I’ll meet you outside the Great Hall, and, uh, we’ll go flying.”  
  
Ginny shuts her mouth abruptly and then grins at Harry. He hesitantly smiles back at her. Ginny takes the opportunity to appreciate the green of Harry’s eyes, and unconsciously she licks her lips. Harry’s gaze flicks to her mouth, and Ginny’s stomach twists in a way that is not related to hunger.

“Oi, Harry!” Ron’s voice cuts through the faint buzzing in Ginny’s ears, and she and Harry both look down the stairs. Ron is standing between the staircase and the entrance to the Great Hall, motioning for Harry to join him. “Come on! Hurry up, I’m starving!”

Harry looks back at Ginny. She rolls her eyes at Ron and grabs three loose quills off the ground, shoving them into her now-repaired bag. “Go ahead, Harry, I’ve got it here,” she tells him, standing. Harry stands up as well, handing her the last few parchments from the ground. She takes it from him, fingers sparking as they skim his, and he glances at her quickly as he takes a step down the stairs. She smiles at him again, “See you later, Harry.”

He moves down a couple more stairs, still looking at her. “See you after dinner, Ginny,” he says, grinning, and then he turns and jogs down the stairs towards Ron, who, seeing Harry’s approach, is already almost to the doors of the Great Hall. Ginny stands still for a moment, thinking about the last few minutes, and then she sees Harry, pausing before the doors, look back at her and wave. Ginny grins and waves back; Harry moves his hand to tousle his hair and then he goes in to lunch. Ginny’s grin widens. Perhaps this day will end much better than it began.


	2. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some late night/early morning snuggles

Harry can barely keep his eyes open Thursday night. Between lessons with Dumbledore, Quidditch practice, and the Transfiguration essay due Friday, he had planned on a long, late night, but as the clock in the empty Common Room strikes 11, Harry’s eyes drift closed.

He dreams about conjuring up quaffle after quaffle and they fly around and around him, too fast, and then he’s drowning in quaffles, and he wakes with a start. The fire has gone out; only a few dark red embers glow in the dark room, and the clock on the mantle reads...something. His glasses are pushed haphazardly on his forehead, so he rubs his eyes and pulls his glasses back down so he can see. 2:24 is what the clock reads, and Harry groans as he looks down at his half-finished essay, wrinkled and smudged from where his face had landed. He still has four inches to go, and although his head is pounding and his mouth tastes stale, Harry smoothes the creases in his essay and begins to write again.

He manages another two inches, an hour and a half of writing, when Harry realizes that he’s written the word “conjuration” three times in a row. He sighs, wishing Hermione had left her essay with him, and he considers just turning in the too-short essay, but then he pictures McGonagall’s stern, disappointed face, and he sighs and reaches for another book from the pile in front of him.

After flipping through chapter after chapter of useless information {he can hear Hermione’s voice in his head: “It’s not useless! Information is valuable, Harry!”}, Harry is ready to face McGonagall’s disappointment if it means he can get just a few hours of sleep. _Just a quick nap, and then I’ll write the rest at breakfast_ , he tries to convince himself.

He stands up from the desk and stretches, then walks across the room to the window seat. Harry sits down and pulls his legs up so he can rest on his knees. Gazing out at the grounds, Harry’s eyes find the tree near the lake where he and Ginny have spent several lovely afternoons. He smiles to himself, eyes drifting shut as he remembers last weekend.

Almost everyone who was able had gone down to Hogsmeade, but he and Ginny had opted to spend the morning flying around the grounds, racing and chasing each other until they were breathless and sweaty. Then they had put their brooms away and headed for that tree, their tree, and had lain in the grass, talking quietly for a bit, then kissing softly, then simply lying next to each other, holding hands, not talking. It was one of the most peaceful days Harry could remember…

“Harry? Harry, what are you doing out here?”

He blinks blearily, lifting his head from his knees. His neck now has an awful crick in it, and he rubs it while squinting at the sound of his name. He feels hands adjusting his glasses on his face and suddenly a dressing-gowned Ginny comes into focus. Her hair is pulled up in a sloppy ponytail, and she’s gawking at him. Harry hastily wipes his mouth, hoping he hasn’t got drool down his shirt.

“Harry,” Ginny repeats, “what are you doing here at this hour? Have you been here all night?” She steps closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “Are you alright?”

Harry nods, gazing up at her, relishing her touch. “I was, uh,” his voice is scratchy; he clears his throat and continues, “I was working on that essay for McGonagall, and then I decided to take a little break. I’m still not done with it… what time is it?” He moves his hand to cover hers on his shoulder, and Ginny smiles at him.

“It’s early, or late, depending on how you look at it. Look, the sun is about to come up,” and she points out the window. Harry follows her gaze and sees the faintest streaks of light spreading across the sky.

Impulsively, Harry tugs on Ginny’s hand. “Sit with me?”

“And watch the sunrise? How romantic.” She’s teasing him, but she moves towards him, and Harry hurriedly scoots over so she can sit next to him on the window seat. She snuggles into his side, and Harry wraps both arms around her and kisses her cheek.

“You’re going to have an awfully long day, Harry,” Ginny murmurs, snaking her arms around him. “How are you going to make it through till dinner?”

Harry doesn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to enjoy the feeling of Ginny in his arms and the view of Hogwarts grounds slowly coming into view as the sun rises. He takes a breath and blows it out in a whoosh. “I’ll be alright, Ginny,” he says finally. “Just watch the sunrise with me. I’ll be alright.”

“We’ll be alright,” she corrects, turning her head and kissing his mouth firmly. “We’ll be alright.”


	3. Mother/Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite Harry and Ginny, but I couldn't help including it in this collection since their relationship status is kinda the point of this piece.  
> Prompt: Rejection

Since her First Year, Ginny can count on one hand the number of times she has cried this hard. Obviously, she was distraught after the Chamber of Secrets - who could blame her? She had cried for nearly an hour that night in the Hospital Wing, even after Madame Pomfrey gave her Dreamless Sleep Potion. Ginny had felt that she simply had to cry until all the tears were finally out.

At the end of her Third Year, she had wept silently for Harry when he had come back from the graveyard in Little Hangleton. She had caught a glimpse of him before Professor Moody - Barty Crouch, Jr., really - had taken him up to the castle, and the look of shock and agony on his face had kept her up well into the night, shedding silent tears behind the bed-hangings. She imagined that some of her tears were for Cedric, but now, when Ginny is truly honest with herself, she knows that they were all for Harry.

After the Department of Mysteries, she might have cried for Sirius, or maybe there were tears of joy when her father was released from St. Mungo’s, but right now, finally home after Dumbledore’s funeral, Ginny cannot remember feeling agony like this. Several weeks of bliss with Harry, some of the happiest weeks Ginny can remember, are all over because of a maniacal murderer who wants to kill her boyfriend.

She’s in her room in the Burrow, sitting on her bed in the dark. Despite the warm May air, she wraps herself in the quilt her mother made her when she was finally big enough to sleep in a real bed. Ginny cries quietly, trying not to wake her family. While Dumbledore’s funeral yesterday might have driven her to shed a few tears, the real reason for her crying is Harry.

Ginny clenches her fist in frustration. Of course she did not cry in front of him when he broke up with her, and of course she did not ask him to not break up with her. She doesn’t cry in front of people, and she expects nothing less from Harry than to bravely face Voldemort. Harry, for all his protesting, truly is a hero who doesn’t hide from danger but faces it bravely, and she loves that about him… but that doesn’t mean she cannot cry alone in her room late at night.

There is a light tapping on her door. Ginny sniffs and says nothing. She doesn’t entirely want to be alone, but she doesn’t want anyone to see her and ask questions; she wants to go back to the lake with Harry where they could sit together without talking… and at the thought of those wonderful days, Ginny’s eyes fill again.

Another tap and Ginny hears her mother’s voice from the door, “Ginny, may I come in? It’s Mum.”

Ginny can only sigh in what she hopes is an affirmative way, and the doorknob turns. Her mother’s head, then the rest of her, appears as Molly steps into the bedroom.

“Hi, Mum,” Ginny croaks out glumly. Suddenly she is glad for her mother’s appearance, grateful to have her there, and fresh tears course down her cheeks. Molly eases onto the bed next to Ginny, wrapping an arm around Ginny’s quilted shoulders.

“Do you want to talk, dear?” Molly’s other hand comes up to smooth back Ginny’s hair. Ginny closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, leaning into her mum’s comforting embrace. Molly continues to stroke her hair, waiting for Ginny to share or not.

With all her children, Molly has tried to not pry, tried to simply be available for them, and to let them know that she loves them. More often than not, her children have opened up to her when they were ready. Having kept a close eye on Ginny all day, Molly has a hunch about what’s bothering her daughter tonight, but she holds back, content to let Ginny gather her thoughts. When Ginny sniffs again, Molly reaches into the pocket of her dressing gown and pulls out a clean hanky. Ginny accepts it gratefully, and Molly pats her daughter’s back as Ginny blows her nose.

“Mum,” Ginny starts and then has to take another shaky breath before continuing, “Harry broke up with me, Mum. Not because he wanted to, but because he...he says Voldemort will use me to trick him, and Harry says he doesn’t want to put me in danger like that.” She stops to blow her nose again. Molly pats Ginny’s cheek tenderly, and Ginny hiccups.

“He’s so brave, Mum, and I know he’s got to do this, I know!” Her tear-streaked face is looking at Molly intensely, and Molly is reminded of other earnest redheads who had the same brown eyes that she and her children have.

“I wouldn’t like him if he ran away from all of this,” and Ginny impatiently wipes her at her face. “I wouldn’t blame him for running, but he wouldn’t be the boy I lo-like if he did,” she adds, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

Listening to her daughter, Molly’s heart aches. This is not a teenage romance gone sour; these are two teenagers forced to make adult decisions based on the probable actions of a madman, and there is a very good chance that one of them may not survive, and Molly is forcibly reminded of long nights not so long ago, waiting up for Arthur to come home, for Gideon and Fabian who did not make it home... Molly pushes the thought from her head and focuses on her daughter, offering her the small bit of hope that Molly herself has clung to over the years.

“Ginny,” Molly says quietly, “may I ask you something?”

She waits, not wanting to overstep if her daughter just wants to vent tonight and after a beat, Ginny nods. Molly takes a breath, wanting to make sure she gets the words right before continuing, “if Harry wasn’t being hunted by Voldemort, do you think he would want to break up with you?”

Even before Molly finishes speaking, Ginny shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, definitely not. We’re happy together, or at least we were until yesterday. But no, if it wasn’t for Voldemort, Harry and I would still be together.”

Molly nods, “Mmmhmm. That’s right. And I know this hurts, this hurts so much. But I want you to keep the truth in mind. Harry would not break up with you if he had his way. That is what you need to focus on, especially while he’s out there and you’re, well, you’re a bit stuck, aren’t you, dear,” and Molly wipes away the tears that are coursing down Ginny’s cheeks.

“Oh, Mum,” Ginny whimpers, and Molly feels tears in her own eyes. “It’s so hard. I know he broke it off to keep us both safe, and I think that as soon as all this-” she waves a hand half-heartedly “-is over, we’ll be back together. I just wish that it didn’t have to happen like this.” Ginny shuts her eyes, and Molly squeezes her shoulder.

“I know, love, I know what you’re feeling, and it is truly an awful feeling, isn’t it, to be stuck at home while the people we love are out there fighting, and we’re here, and even though we know that what we’re doing here at home is good and important, it doesn’t feel like it, does it, not when others are in such constant danger.”

Both Molly and Ginny are crying now, and Ginny hands the damp handkerchief back to her mother. Molly takes it and wipes her eyes, then dabs at Ginny’s cheeks. Ginny takes a deep breath and asks quietly, “How did you keep going, Mum?”

Molly sighs and adjusts the quilt on Ginny’s shoulders. Ginny scoots a bit closer to her mum, and Molly wraps both arms around her daughter. “In all honesty, love, I don’t know. I just did. I knew that what my husband and brothers were fighting for was important and right, and I knew that my children needed their mother more than Dumbledore needed another soldier, so I kept on, kept doing the best I could. Some people thought we were crazy, having you and your brothers, during a time of such violence and uncertainty, but I think… I think we all needed reminders,” Molly moved one hand to stroke the back of Ginny’s head.

“We need to remember what we’re fighting for, and that’s love. If I didn’t have children, whom I wanted desperately, because of fear, then I was letting Voldemort win. So your father and I talked and we decided that having children was one of the bravest, most loving ways we could fight fear.”

Ginny takes her mother’s hand and squeezes it. “Is that why you are hosting a huge wedding for Bill and Fleur?”

“As an act of war? Yes, that is what it feels like, doesn’t it,” Molly smiled, a bit sadly, and nodded, “and also because this is my oldest son’s wedding and not even Voldemort himself can keep me from throwing a proper celebration.”

Molly’s voice firm and back to the confident, decisive tone that Ginny recognizes, and she looks at her mother’s lined face. Molly’s jaw is set determinedly in a look that Ginny recognizes in the mirror. She squeezes her mother’s hand again, and Molly looks at her expectantly.

Ginny coughs and clears her throat. She is no longer crying, and her mother’s words are easing the tightness in her chest. It is a comfort to know her mother understands, even when nothing else has changed, and Ginny appreciates her mother’s strength and faith in her. She sits up straighter, and Molly feels the resolve go through Ginny’s spine.

“You’re right, Mum. I can fight at Hogwarts and Harry can fight...wherever, and if breaking up, or pretending to be broken up, can help keep him safe, then I’ll do it. That will be my act of defiance, and when Harry gets here, I’m going to remind him-” she inhales sharply “-that if he really wants to be done with me, he’s going to have give me a better reason than Voldemort.”

Ginny pushes the quilt off her shoulders and her mum’s arm drops with it. She stands up, invigorated by her decision, and walks to the window. Ginny stands there a moment, thinking of Harry, and her parents, and love, and then she turns and looks at her mother, who is watching her with a small, sad smile. “What, Mum?”

Molly wipes a tear off her own cheek. “Nothing. I’m just proud of you, dear, for being so brave and so strong, and-” she hesitates a moment, then finishes “-and I hope Harry makes it back to you.”

She opens her arms, and Ginny moves forward immediately, wrapping her arms around her mother as her mum embraces her. In her mum’s arms, Ginny concentrates fiercely, as if by thinking hard enough, the thought would become true: Harry would defeat Voldemort and come back to be with her again. Soon.


	4. Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is trying to stay distant but Ginny won't let him.

Mrs. Weasley is doing an excellent job of keeping Harry, Ron, and Hermione too busy to talk to one another. Yesterday, she had Ron repainting the shed, Harry cleaning the kitchen pantry, and Hermione {whose Charms work is the best} working in the garden. Today, Harry is assigned to tidy the attic {with careful instructions on how not to disturb the ghoul}. Bill and Fleur’s wedding is still a week away, so Harry figures he can take a moment and breathe.

He sits with his back to the attic ladder, sweating in the hot, stagnant air. Harry knows he should be working, knows he should finish this task and then report back to Mrs. Weasley for more duties {or, perhaps, for a sandwich and cold glass of milk}, but he is distracted by the shelf full of photo albums.

He traces his finger along the spines: there is one labelled “Molly + Arthur at Hogwarts,” one labelled “Wedding,” and then one for each of their children {the twins share a book that is fatter than all but Bill’s}. The albums are snug on the shelf, each book full almost to bursting, and Harry can practically feel the familial love inside each binding.

Harry’s finger stops on Ron’s book, and he smirks a little as he pulls the book off the shelf and opens it. The very first picture he sees is of Ron under a Christmas tree, swatting at an ornament. Harry chuckles and is about to turn the page when a voice startles him.

“Mum charmed the baubles to stay on the tree.” Ginny is kneeling so close behind him that Harry drops the photo album. It hits the floor with a thunk, and Harry flushes.

“I, er, didn’t hear you come up,” he stammers, picking up the album and replacing it on the shelf. He doesn’t look her in the eye.

Ginny snorts. “That’s obvious,” she says, gesturing towards the book. “You aren’t even looking at the best album. Here, look,” and she reaches for the book labelled “Ginerva” and takes it off the shelf.

She brushes the dust off the cover and sits down next to him; their knees bump together, but Ginny doesn’t scoot away. She opens the album and gazes at it fondly. She is highly aware of Harry sitting next to her avoiding eye contact, and she is determined to be as normal as possible despite him. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him, waiting until he looks at the photo album.

“Ha, here, look at Fred’s face when Dad told him I was a girl. He cried for two days and didn’t want to hold me for a week.” She indicates a picture of a three-year-old Fred wailing and a bemused Arthur holding a tiny bundle that Harry assumes is an infant Ginny.

“And here, Bill had just given me a ride on his broom. That was my very first flight, and you know I’ve been addicted ever since.” She grins and Harry smiles down at the book. He appreciates her attempt at normalcy, and he can’t decide if it is awful or wonderful to be in the same room as her.

“Oh, look!” Ginny begins laughing as she turns the page. “I’d forgotten that dress! Oh!” She tilts her head back and howls. Harry can’t help gazing at her; her face is reddened with the heat of the attic and her glee, and her mouth is open wide. Her shoulders are shaking, and Harry catches sight of a tear in the corner of one eye. He glances down to see the picture that set her off, and he can’t help the shout of helpless laughter that escapes him.

“What is that dress?” Harry leans closer to examine it, a challenge since Ginny is still shaking with laughter.

He picks up the book from her lap and holds it closer, studying the picture curiously. In it, a young Ginny is wearing an outrageously frilly dress. It is bright pink, so pink that it hurts Harry’s eyes, and it was obviously meant for an adult. The picture-Ginny is prancing proudly around the living room of the Burrow, holding up a foot of fabric in front of her so she can walk. On her head is a paper crown decorated with childish scribbles and a few beads haphazardly attached.

Harry puts the album back on Ginny’s lap and gapes at her. Her laughter subsides into chuckles and she grins at him.

“That dress,” she announces proudly, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, “was my princess dress. I wore it when I wanted to boss my brothers around, because when I was a princess, they had to do what I said. I think Mum kept the dress… it’s probably in one of these boxes.”

She shakes her head, remembering, and Harry finds himself entranced by her memories, by her telling. He thinks of the singular photo album he has of his own family, and he realizes the real gift that Ginny is sharing with him.

Impulsively, he grabs her hand and squeezes. “Thank you...for this,” he murmurs, not sure how to articulate everything he’s including in his thanks.

She squeezes back. “You’re welcome, Harry.”


	5. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Processing some trauma post-battle

It’s quiet in the Burrow as Ginny creeps downstairs. Her family is still asleep, or faking it; everyone seems to have accepted that they stay in their own rooms just a bit longer these days. Ginny sighs. It’s only been a couple of weeks since Voldemort’s defeat, only a week since Fred’s funeral, but already it feels like ages. 

She steps over the second-to-last step, the one that always creaks loudly, and heads to the kitchen. She stops abruptly, though, when she sees Harry sitting at the table, his back to her. There is a pot of tea and a faded yellow mug in front of him, but he doesn’t seem to be drinking it. 

Ginny considers coughing to alert him of her presence, but before she can, Harry turns around, like he was expecting her. He smiles a small, tired smile. “Morning, Ginny,” he greets her in a low, scratchy voice, and Ginny moves toward him. 

“Morning, Harry,” she replies just as quietly, taking a seat beside him. He scoots over just a bit so she has some space, then he moves his arm like he’s making room for her. Ginny doesn’t hesitate; she slips her arm around his waist and leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and Harry wraps his arm around her shoulders. He sighs, and Ginny hears both contentment and sadness in that sigh. She squeezes his waist a bit and picks up his tea mug with her other hand. 

“Gone cold,” she observes, and Harry picks his wand up off the table and waves it at the mug. She smiles up at him and takes a sip. Harry adjusts his arm so his hand can reach her hair, and he twirls a strand around his fingers. Ginny closes her eyes; she loves it when Harry plays with her hair, had loved it since their first snog at Hogwarts. No matter what was going on, Harry playing with her hair never failed to relax and soothe her, and she suspected, still suspects, that it soothed him, too. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Harry’s fingers in her hair, Ginny’s hand around the mug. The Burrow is quiet, only a few muffled thumps indicate movement upstairs. Ginny glances at Harry, who is gazing out the window unseeing.

“Do you want some breakfast?” she asks softly. He turns to look at her. “I can make toast,” she offers. 

Harry smiles. “Toast sounds wonderful, Gin.” She notices that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“You’ll have to let go of my hair if you want me to make toast,” she tells him with a smirk. 

Harry smiles more fully now, she is pleased to note, and he grasps a bit more of her hair. “Or I could wave my wand from right here and make toast, and neither of us would have to move at all.” He is pleased with himself, and Ginny grins widely. 

“That is definitely an option,” she agrees, and Harry picks up his wand again. 

Only after several pieces of toast - none burned, which impresses Ginny - are on a plate in front of them, and butter and jam are Summoned from the pantry, only then does Harry let go of Ginny’s hair. He remains close to her, though, their elbows bumping as they prepare their toast, and Ginny takes a bite and leans against him again, and he seems to settle. 

“What are you thinking about, Harry?” she asks after she swallows. 

Harry continues to gaze out the window, his hand hovering above his toast. “I’m...not sure, exactly,” he says finally. “It’s still a lot to get used to, you know?” He glances at her quickly, and Ginny puts down her toast and takes his hand. 

“A lot has happened in the last few weeks and months,” she says carefully, and Harry nods, so she continues. “I know a lot of people have been asking questions and spreading rumors, but Harry, you don’t have to pay them any attention. You’re allowed to focus on your own life now, to focus on healing from all the… the trauma you’ve endured.” 

She turns to face him more fully, still holding his hand, and with her other hand she strokes his cheek. Harry keeps his eyes on her, unblinking, staring intensely, and Ginny knows he is trusting her, not fleeing from her in this vulnerable moment. She lifts her chin and stares back at him. 

“This will get better,” she whispers fiercely. “We will heal and grow and rebuild, and this will get better, and until it does… until it does, Harry, it is okay to not be okay. It’s okay to not be okay,” she repeats as she blinks back the tears pricking at her eyes. Harry squeezes her hand. “It’s okay,” she says again, and Harry echoes her, “it’s okay.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, their hands still entwined on the table, Ginny still holding Harry’s cheek with her other hand. He takes a shaky breath, and Ginny feels his exhale on her cheek. “Thanks, Gin,” he murmurs. 

She leans forward and kisses him firmly, fiercely, and he lets go of her hand and wraps both arms around her, pulls her closer to him, and here, right now, Ginny feels that they both believe that they will be okay, one day.


	6. Baby Whisperer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some domestic!Hinny with baby James Sirius  
> Prompt: "I'm committed to making your life a living hell,"

It feels as though Ginny had just drifted back to sleep when her son starts crying again. Harry grunts beside her, then pushes the covers aside, mumbling, “I’m on it” through a yawn. Ginny burrows deeper into the covers, then stops, realizing that if James is hungry, she will need to be at least somewhat out from under the blanket. Eyes shut, she waits, half-listening to Harry as he stumbles to James’ crib at the foot of their bed.

“Hey, little man, are you hungry already? Didn’t your mum just feed you, because I swear she was just up…” Harry trails off as he picks up the baby, and Ginny smiles to herself.

At the age of 16, she had thought that she knew what it was to be in love with Harry Potter. When they had reunited after Voldemort’s defeat, after Harry’s death-ish experience, Ginny had found new depths of love. Marrying him three years ago was the best decision Ginny ever made. In the last four months, however, since James was born, Ginny has fallen in love with Harry all over again. Watching Harry embrace fatherhood has been, perhaps, the best part of becoming a mother.

James has stopped crying and is now snuffling in that cute newborn way, and Ginny peeks open one eye to watch. James is tucked under Harry’s chin, and Harry is bouncing and swaying in a pattern that Ginny recognizes. James recognizes it too, and he lets out the tiniest sigh. Harry grins and kisses the top of James’ head.

Unfortunately, that seems to startle James, and he lets out a loud wail. Ginny sighs and pulls Harry’s pillow on top of her head, and Harry groans a bit and bounces a bit more exuberantly.

“Oi, Dad, I’m too cool for kisses, leave me alone.” Despite trying to fall back asleep, Ginny snorts. Harry is using what he calls his Baby Whisperer voice.

It started during her pregnancy, right as she began to show. Harry would talk to Ginny’s stomach and tell the baby about all the things they would see or do together, then he would reply to himself using this voice. The baby’s “answers” were usually quite cheeky, and Ginny had rolled her eyes every time.

Harry stops talking and begins “shush”-ing in rhythm with his sways, and gradually James quiets again.

Ginny begins to doze again, and in just a few minutes Harry climbs into bed next to her. He grabs his pillow off her face and pulls her close, and Ginny turns and wraps an arm around him, pushing her face into his chest.

“Thank you for taking such good care of our baby,” Ginny mumbles sleepily against Harry’s shirt. Harry says nothing, just kisses the top of Ginny’s head and squeezes her a bit tighter.

* * *

 In the morning, Ginny wakes to an empty bedroom and the smells of bacon. _Bless Harry_ , she thinks, getting out of bed and wrapping her dressing gown around her.

As she heads downstairs, the sound of James shrieking with laughter reaches her, and Ginny grins as she walks into the kitchen. Harry is standing with his back to her, waving his wand so that the bacon dances out of the frying pan and onto the nearby serving plate.

“Breakfast and a show, hmm?” At Ginny’s voice, Harry spins around, but the bacon, she is impressed to note, continues dancing its way to the plate.

“Morning, love. Did we wake you?” Harry moves to embrace her with his wand-free arm, and Ginny stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He turns and catches her mouth, and Ginny smiles. Harry has never been one for half greetings, and she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him. Harry sets his wand down and grips her waist, and only after James squawks does he pull away slightly.

Ginny grins at Harry, who looks slightly dazed. “Thanks for letting me have a lie-in, love,” Ginny whispers, and Harry blinks at her.

“I’ll let you have a lie-in every morning if it means a greeting like that,” he smirks, and Ginny lifts one arm to smack his shoulder.

“Oi, you get plenty of attention no matter what time I wake up, and you know it,” she retorts, stepping away from him. “Are you fixing anything besides bacon, or shall I make something?”

“I’ve got toast warming in the tray, pancake batter already mixed, scones baking in the oven, and one of your mum’s breakfast casseroles ready to be heated whenever you want it. Is that enough for you?” Harry grins smugly at Ginny’s shocked face.

“You… all that… Harry…” For the first time in a long time, Ginny is rendered speechless, and Harry’s smile grows wider.

It’s not as if Harry has never made such gestures before; on the contrary, since before they were even engaged, Harry has delighted in surprising Ginny with various treats, spontaneous dates, and even a quick getaway to Bath when both Harry’s Auror training and Ginny’s Harpies schedules had miraculously aligned. Sometimes Harry reminded her of a special day worth honoring, like the anniversary of their first date or when Ginny was signed with the Harpies or when Harry graduated to full-fledged Auror.

Since James has been born, their relationship has been full not of romantic dates or flashy presents, but of soft touches and warm gazes. Harry has given Ginny the gift of sleep many times since James was past six weeks old, and Ginny has tried her best to express her gratitude and appreciation and love to Harry, through both words and touches. Now, since she cannot speak quite yet, she just reaches for Harry’s arm and grips it firmly.

“Glad you’re hungry, at least,” Harry says with a smile.

Ginny regains her capacity for speech and manages, “I don’t deserve you, I really don’t.” She turns to him and places her hands on his shoulders, but before she can move to kiss him again, James shrieks. Both Harry and Ginny turn towards him at once, expecting the worst, but James clearly just wants his parents’ attentions, and he waves his arms excitedly when he sees them watching.

Ginny drops her arms from Harry’s shoulders and steps away from him so she can pick up James. “Are you feeling neglected, little man? Do you need Mum and Dad’s attention every moment?!”

“Yes, Mum,” Harry responds in his Baby Whisperer voice, “I need your undivided attention every moment of every day. Don’t even think about kissing Dad when I’m in the room.” James laughs at Harry’s silly voice, and Ginny laughs as well. She turns her head to see Harry smiling at her, a look of pure adoration on his face.

Ginny spins James around and moves closer to Harry, who immediately wraps his arms around her and James. Ginny snuggles deeper into Harry’s embraces, shifting James to one arm so she can wrap the other around Harry’s waist. “I love our family,” Ginny says softly, and she feels Harry press a kiss to the side of her forehead.

“Me too,” Harry replies, his lips still close to her ear.

* * *

Their bedside clock reads 3:34am when James starts crying again. He must be teething, Ginny thinks, because this is the seventeenth time he has woken up since 8pm. She sighs and moves to get out of bed.

An odor reaches her before she reaches the crib, and Ginny wrinkles her nose. _What did we feed him?_ Whatever it is, it is not agreeing with him. She grabs a clean nappy and picks up her son. “Hey, little man, has your tummy been hurting you? Or are you just stinking up the place to be a stinker?”

James’ cries get quieter but don’t stop, and Ginny picks up some diaper ointment before setting James down on the changing table. “Wow, son, you are ripe,” Ginny tells James, who stops crying as soon as Ginny unsnaps his onesie. His chubby thighs kick half-heartedly at Ginny’s hands as she pries off his jammies.

Ginny breathes through her mouth as she opens the full-to-bursting dirty diaper. Delicately, she begins to wipe. “Merlin, James, are you trying to murder us with your poo?”

“Oh, Mum, you know that I’m committed to making your life a living hell, so here’s my fifth poopy diaper of the night.”

Ginny jumps and whips her head over her shoulder; Harry is sitting up in bed, smirking at her.

“Did I wake you?” Even though everyone is awake, Ginny still keeps her voice at a whisper.

“Nah, I hadn’t fallen asleep from his last diaper.” Harry’s voice is low and gravelly, and Ginny shivers, appreciating how attractive Harry is, even in the middle of a sleepless night. He notices her staring, and winks at her. “Finish that diaper, love, and come back to bed.”

Ginny winks back at him. “Working on it, Potter, but someone’s son is quite messy.” Harry groans, leaning forward to see over the edge of the bed. “Yikes. He knows how to fill a diaper, doesn’t he?”

Ginny continues wiping James’ bum and begins to fasten on the clean nappy. “He does seem particularly talented in this area, yes.”

The nappy is fastened and Ginny directs James’ legs back into his jammies. Harry watches her silently, and adjusts the covers as Ginny places James back in the crib. She strokes his soft cheek, his eyes already drifting closed. “Goodnight, my love. Please stay asleep for a couple hours this time.”

Harry grins at her. “Think he’ll cooperate?”

Ginny climbs into bed and wraps her arm around Harry’s waist. “We’ll see. Let’s sleep while we can, eh?”

Harry slides his arm over her hip and up her back. “Love you, Gin.”

Eyes closed, snuggled close to Harry’s chest, Giny whispers back, “Love you, too.”


	7. Luna Lovegood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny have a question for Luna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot shake the idea of this scene, plus I love domestic!Hinny with rambunctious sons.  
> Prompt: Luna Lovegood

“Oooph,” Ginny struggles to get up from the couch. Even in her third pregnancy, she always forgets how difficult vertical movement becomes in the third trimester.

“Gin, be careful.” Harry’s hands grasp her elbows gently, and Ginny makes it to her feet.

“Thanks, love,” Ginny smiles, and Harry moves his hands to her waist. He smiles back at her and kisses her forehead, then her nose, and then finally her mouth. Ginny kisses him back, leans into him, but before she can do anything else, two screaming children run into the room.

“MUM!” James is screaming at the top of his lungs as he runs in circles around his parents, Albus right behind him, shrieking with laughter. Harry raises an eyebrow ruefully at Ginny, then bends and picks up Albus, throwing the toddler over his shoulder. Albus laughs a deep belly laugh as Harry begins to tickle him.

Ginny reaches out and snags James’ shirt, pulling him to a stop. “Sounds like you boys are ready for dinner.”

James begins to jump up and down, and Ginny lets go of his shirt. “James, will you put napkins on the table, please?”

James stops jumping and rushes into the kitchen with a yell. Harry chuckles.

“Your son cannot do anything at half-speed,” he observes wryly, and Ginny wrinkles her nose in mock exasperation.

“Your son cannot do anything at half-volume,” she replies as she follows James. “Come on, Luna will be here any minute.”

As if on cue, there is a knock on the front door. With Albus still over his shoulder, Harry goes to open it.

“Hello, Luna, come on in,” he greets her.

“Hello, Harry. Hello, Albus,” comes Luna’s dreamy voice.

Ginny pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Luna, welcome! Have a seat, dinner will be on in a moment.” She turns around and begins waving her wand, directing dishes towards the table.

James is diligently placing a napkin on every plate, and Harry follows behind, moving them to the side. Luna takes a seat, and James comes around and plops into the chair next to her. “Hi, Auntie Luna,” he calls as if she is across a Quidditch pitch.

“Hello, James,” she replies, smiling at him. “Seen any interesting creatures lately?”

As James launches into a tale of the dabberblimp he saw at the pond, Harry buckles Albus into his high chair and Ginny carries the last dish out to the table. She sits on one side of Albus, and Harry sits on her other side and takes her hand. She smiles at him and he kisses her cheek.

“So what do you want to tell me?” Luna asks. James, his story finished, sits quietly, looking between his parents and Luna.

Harry takes two dinner rolls and puts one on Albus’ plate. “We never could get anything past you, Luna,” he says affectionately, grinning at her after making sure Albus is chewing the roll.

“It’s not so much as tell you something as it is to...well, ask a question,” Ginny says, waving her wand so that green beans scoop themselves onto James’ plate. “Eat them or no dessert,” she adds in response to James’ scowl.

“Last week, Luna, Gin and I went to her Healer appointment and found out that this baby-” Harry places a hand on Ginny’s stomach “-is a girl.” He stops talking, smiling too widely to speak, and Ginny moves a hand to cover his.

When Harry doesn’t say anything else, Ginny continues for him. “We were wondering, Luna, if you would be willing to share something with us.” She smiles at Luna as she cuts green beans for Albus.

Luna looks puzzled. “Share something? Oh, do you want some beetlesblood so your baby doesn’t cry as much?”

Ginny chuckles kindly. “No, it’s not that. We were wondering,” she takes a deep breath and puts down her knife so she can wipe her eyes. Harry nods at her, encouraging her to continue.

“We were wondering if you would like to share your name with our daughter,” Ginny manages finally, and she looks at Luna searchingly. Luna blinks.

Harry adds gently, “We were thinking Lily for the first name, for my mum, and then we thought ‘Luna’ would be a wonderful middle name. What do you think?”

Luna blinks again and opens her mouth. For a moment, no sound comes out, then Luna is laughing, laughing hysterically like she had the first day Harry met her.

“You want to name your daughter after me?” she exclaims through her peals of laughter. Harry and Ginny exchange glances, unsure whether to be amused or alarmed.

“Well, yes, if you’re alright with it, Luna,” Harry answers, and Luna laughs harder. James, who had been sitting silently through the conversation, begins to laugh as well, and Albus waves his arms merrily, flinging green beans everywhere.

“Alright with it?” Luna gasps, and Ginny begins to grin. “It is a high honor to have something or someone named after you. Oh! Is this-” she stops laughing abruptly, and James copies her a moment later; Albus continues to screech happily.

“Is this because we’re such good friends?” Luna asks earnestly, and Ginny lets out a half-laugh, half-sob. “Yes, Luna, it’s because we’re such good friends,” she answers, wiping her eyes again.

“Then my answer is yes,” Luna says serenely, then adds, “James, please pass the green beans.”


	8. Scorpius Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potters are invited to a birthday party for Scorpius Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, these characters crack me up. So sneaky, so sly.  
> Prompt: Scorpius Malfoy

Harry stared at the invitation in his hand. Ginny, passing the living room on her way to the laundry room, did a double take and came around the couch to stand by him, still holding James’ dirty pajamas. He didn’t look up at her, didn’t acknowledge her; he was too stunned.

“Harry,” Ginny asked slowly, “what’s wrong?”

Still not moving his eyes from the parchment in his hand, Harry gestured with his other hand. Ginny stepped closer to him and peered at the parchment. She let out a short laugh.

“Oh, Harry, the way you’re standing here, I thought something was really wrong!” She rested a hand on Harry’s arm, still laughing, but Harry only sucked in a breath and continued staring. Ginny stopped laughing and squeezed his arm.

“Harry?” she asked, worried now. “Harry, talk to me. It’s a birthday party invitation. Why is this such a big deal?”

Finally, Harry looked at her. “Did you see,” he asked in a low voice, “who the invitation is from?”

Frowning, Ginny looked at the parchment again, double-checking that she had read the name correctly. “From Draco and Astoria, right? For their son Scorpius? Oh, yes, right, Harry, he’s about Al’s age, or close to. Merlin, is Scorpius turning five? That means Al is almost five... I feel old now. At least a gift will be easy, since we know what almost-five-year-olds enjoy these days.”

“Ginny,” Harry said slowly, shaking his head, “you’re missing the point. Draco Malfoy just invited our family to his house for a birthday party. Malfoy. Potter. Birthday party. Surely you can understand how odd this is!”

Ginny laughed again and leant up to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Oh, Harry,” she said fondly, “I thought you said just the other week that you and Malfoy - gasp - cooperated on passing that new Auror policy, and, more shocking, you said that he was not as awful to work with as you expected.”

“But that’s-”

“And didn’t you say that it would be good to work together and get to know one another now, as fully grown wizards, instead of clinging to mistrust?”

“I did say that, but-”

“Harry,” Ginny cut him off sternly, “Draco is obviously trying to make an effort to put the past behind him. Something I think you know a lot about, right?”

Harry opened his mouth again, then shut it. He sighed. Ginny was right, and they both knew it. Of all people, Harry knew what it was like to try and move on from the past. If that meant attending a five-year-old’s birthday party, then so be it.

Ginny smiled pointedly at him with brows raised, and Harry sighed again. “I’ll respond that we are delighted to attend,” he said, and Ginny’s smile grew softer.

“Good decision, love,” she murmured, leaning up to kiss him again. “I promise that if it’s awful, we can leave after an hour and I’ll remind you how to really celebrate.”

Harry smiled, wrapped an arm around Ginny’s waist, and pulled her closer to him. “You’re not making it easy for me to have high hopes for this party, you realize,” he whispered in her ear.

Ginny winked at him. “Well, I could also reward you if we stay the whole time, so there’s an incentive.”

Harry rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. “You just want me to go to this party, one way or another, is that it?”

“Finally catching on, Potter?” Ginny pulled out of his arms after one last kiss. “I knew I married you for more than your wealth.”

* * *

By the morning of Scorpius’ party, Harry had lost some of his enthusiasm. He fiddled with his robes in front of the mirror while Ginny sat and fixed her hair. “Remind me again why we’re going to this thing,” he whined.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “We’re going because Draco invited us. We’re going because we are adults and able to to move on from the past. We’re going because Ron and Hermione were also invited and I told Hermione that you were going, so Ron is also going.”

Harry grimaced at her, and Ginny sighed.

“You’re going because I’m going to reward your good behavior later,” Ginny said primly, and Harry leaned over and kissed her neck; she swatted him, and he grabbed her arm and kissed her wrist, too.

“Harry,” Ginny was smiling, but her tone was serious. “Harry, please, try and be nice to Draco and Astoria. They’ve taken the first step and invited us, and I think we could be maybe not quite friends, but respectful acquaintances. Albus and Scorpius are going to be classmates in a few years and we’re going to see a lot of the Malfoys at Ministry events, so we may as well embrace it and try to make the best of it. Please, Harry.” She stood and wrapped her arms around his waist, pushing her nose into his chest.

Harry linked his fingers behind Ginny’s back and kissed the top of her head. “Alright. I’ll give Malfoy a chance.”

“Call him Draco, Harry.” Ginny’s voice was muffled against his shirt, and Harry chuckled and sighed.

“Alright, Draco. I’ll give Draco a chance.” He nudged Ginny’s head with his cheek, and when she looked up at him, he smiled at her. “Do the number of chances I give him correspond to my rewards later?”

“Oi!” Ginny swatted him and pulled out of his embrace. “Go make sure your sons have shoes on.”

* * *

Holding Lily on his hip, Harry raised a hand to knock on the front door of the Malfoy estate. Ginny stood next to him, one hand holding Albus’ hand, the other resting gently on Harry’s back. Her silent support calmed Harry’s nerves, and he took a deep breath and knocked firmly.

Almost immediately, the door was opened by a tall, slender woman who could only be Astoria Malfoy.

“Welcome, come in, thank you so much for coming,” she greeted them warmly. Harry tried to contain his surprise as she ushered them into the foyer, which was decorated with streamers and more balloons than Harry had ever seen in one place.

“Did you find us alright? Oh, let me call Draco,” said Astoria as she leaned down a hallway. Harry caught Ginny’s eye and raised a brow; she winked at him and then smiled broadly at the returning Astoria.

“Thank you so much for inviting us, Astoria, we’re thrilled to be here. And where is the birthday boy?” Ginny clasped Astoria’s hand in both of hers, like they were old friends reunited, and Harry looked away quickly, just in time to see Draco enter the foyer.

“Harry, Ginny, thanks for coming,” and Draco extended his hand to Harry. Harry looked him in the eye, took his hand, shook it firmly. It was odd, to be sure, to be called ‘Harry’ instead of ‘Potter’ by Draco, but Harry remembered Ginny’s warning and promise and decided to embrace it.

“Thanks for inviting us, Draco,” Harry replied. He shifted Lily on his hip. “I don’t know if you’ve met all my children yet. This is Lily,” he tilted his head, and Lily smiled shyly at Draco, who smiled slightly and nodded his head towards her.

“This is my oldest, James,” continued Harry, pointing to his son, who waved, “and this is my second born, Albus, who is just a couple months younger than Scorpius.” Albus grinned sheepishly, and Draco smiled kindly at them.

“Albus,” said Draco, and Harry smiled encouragingly at his son, “would you like to come into the parlor and meet Scorpius?”

Albus nodded and followed Draco down the hall. Harry quirked his head to James, who shrugged and followed Albus. Harry turned to Ginny, who was chatting with Astoria. She looked over at him and smiled, and Harry went to her side and kissed her cheek and whispered, “We’ll be in the parlor.” Ginny nodded, squeezed his arm briefly as he walked away.

* * *

In the parlor, Harry found himself glad to be holding Lily; she gave him an excuse to leave small talk with strangers. Eventually, he ended up next to Ron, whose left arm was tightly wrapped in both of Hugo’s hands. Harry smiled down at Hugo, and Hugo smiled back but did not let go of Ron’s arm.

“He’s a little nervous around strangers,” explained Ron unnecessarily. Harry nodded wisely, adjusting Lily so she sat more comfortably on his arm.

His eyes on Rose, Albus, and Scorpius across the room, Ron asked, “so Ginny made you come?” and Harry blinked.

“She, er, convinced me that it was a good idea, yeah,” Harry answered, thankful he was able to keep his voice even. “Hermione got you?”

Ron nodded. “She said that our kids are going to be in the same class at Hogwarts, and we’re all adults, and something about moving on from the past, and I reckon she’s right. I didn’t tell her that, of course-” he winked at Harry “-saving that for later. But I was surprised to get the invitation, that’s for sure.”

Harry chuckled. “I think I went into shock. Ginny found me in the living room after I’d been standing there for about ten minutes.”

Ron guffawed loudly, then turned it into a cough when several people turned their heads. “Enjoying yourselves?” Draco’s voice came from behind them and both Ron and Harry whipped their heads around. Draco smirked at them as they exchanged uneasy glances; Harry could tell Ron was thinking the same thing: how much had Draco heard?

“In case you’re wondering,” Draco leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “Astoria made me invite everyone. She said we needed to move on from the past and act like adults, and that our kids were going to be in the same class, and that if I didn’t invite especially you, Harry, then I would sleep on the couch for a month.” He grimaced as he looked from Ron to Harry, and Harry couldn’t keep his mouth from falling open a bit.

“I wonder,” Harry muttered, and Ron and Draco stepped a bit closer, closed off their little triangle to the rest of the room; Harry set Lily down so she could get a cookie. “I wonder if our wives…”

“If they talked to each other? Undoubtedly,” whispered Ron, patting Hugo’s head absently.

“But when?” Harry wondered aloud.

Draco frowned. “Did Ginny and Hermione give the same reasons to you?” he asked, motioning between them with a pointed finger.

Ron and Harry both nodded. “Come to think of it,” said Harry slowly, “Ginny did not seem all that surprised to get the invitation. No offense, Draco,” he added quickly, and Draco shrugged one shoulder. “None taken, Harry.”

Ron tapped his finger on his cheek, thinking hard. “Actually, neither did Hermione. She had already opened it when I got home, but she was too calm. You know she’s a terrible actor,” he said, and Harry nodded in confirmation.

Draco folded his arms across his chest. “I think we’ve been outwitted, gentlemen,” he said, “so you know the Muggle saying. ‘If you can’t beat them, join them,’” and he motioned to the gift table where Ginny, Astoria, and Hermione were standing and talking.

Harry caught Ginny’s eye. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned. He looked back at Ron and Draco. “I guess we have been beat, haven’t we,” he sighed. “But let’s not join them quite yet.”

Ron, who had begun to nudge Hugo in front of him so they could cross the room, paused. “Why not, Harry?”

Harry’s grin widened. “Because,” he lowered his voice, “if our wives all had the same arguments for this party, I imagine they had similar methods of bribery.”

Ron’s face reddened, but stayed where he was. Draco cleared his throat quietly.

“If that is the case,” Harry continued, not looking at Ron, “then I think it would benefit us to stand here and talk together for a bit longer, don’t you?”

Draco smiled, a real, honest smile that Harry had never seen before. “Thinking like a Slytherin, Potter, I like it.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t let Astoria hear you calling me ‘Potter,’ Draco.”


End file.
